


red lipstick smudged

by perfect_little_fool



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Hand Jobs, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Slight Dominant Stiles, Take-No-Shit Lydia, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3093881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_little_fool/pseuds/perfect_little_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Boyd,” he says curtly, his hands balling at his sides where they rested on the leather of the seats. “Would you…would you please roll up the…the…” her hands were in his boxers oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—</p>
<p>“The partition?” Boyd asks, directly keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him. </p>
<p>“Yes! There’s the word,” Stiles chokes out as her hand wraps around his shaft, her fingers cold but feeling so <i>so</i> good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	red lipstick smudged

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may have not been listening to Partition by Beyonce and this was the result. I am so not sorry, tbh.
> 
>  
> 
> _Private show with the music blastin'_  
>  _He like to call me peaches when we get this nasty_  
>  _Red wine drip filth, talk that trash_  
>  _Chauffeur eavesdropping tryin' not to crash_

“Boyd? If we could step on it just a bit? We’re already late enough as it is, don’t want to make it any worse,” Stiles pushes as politely as he can, his leg bouncing up and down as he averts his eyes to gaze back out the darkened window. 

Lydia turns her head to look over at the man beside her, her lids fluttering as she looks him up and down in his nervous state. Even as he moved restlessly so it wrinkled his pressed suit, he still looked damn fine in the silk and satin, the grey color complimenting his pale complexion and the fit _just_ right that it gave his lanky figure the correct amount of enunciation. She licks her lips as she fixates on his pale throat, his head angled in a way that the entire column above his collarbone was easy for her to assess. 

“Babe,” she murmurs, reaching over and placing a hand on his thigh just a _bit_ too high. “We’ll get there. Scott and Allison aren’t going to be that upset if we show up late to what is probably their hundredth party.”

He looks back at her, giving a quick quirk of his lips. “I didn’t rent a limo just to show up so late that it’s hardly fashionable anymore.” The small scoff in his voice causes a light laugh to leave her.

“You didn’t have to rent a limo you just chose to.”

Stiles hums low in his throat, his eyes dropping a bit to peer at the cleavage peeking out of the low neckline of her long, red, and—most importantly—skin revealing dress. “Maybe I wanted to impress you,” he mumbles as he moves closer, his lips finding hers easily in the dark that surrounded them. The night sky whizzed by as they headed toward the city, the lights in the distance barely making a dent in the atmosphere that covered them like a blanket.

She kisses back with fervor, his tongue licking at the seam of her lips so they promptly open up for him. He grins against her mouth before pulling back a few moments later. “Mm,” he breathes deep, reaching up to trace his thumb across the plumpness of her bottom lip. “I ruined your lipstick.” Clearly this didn’t stop him as he once again leans down to give her more delicious, exhausting kisses, his hand smoothing around the dip of her waist to rest on the small of her back. Lydia eagerly responds, her hands coming up to rest on the lapels of his suit jacket, feeling his pecs beneath as she presses there. 

“You know,” she sighs as he trails a wet, tantalizing amount of kisses across her cheek before hooking over her jaw to taste the exposed skin of her neck, “we aren’t the only people in the car.”

“Mhm,” he lazily rambles back, not keen on being bothered at the moment. “Which is why you have to behave.” Stiles, always the naughty, adventurous boy that he is, iterates this by moving his hand down to cup her ass through her dress, his long fingers hooked just the right amount so they rested _this_ close to…to…

“Fuck,” she sucks in a large inhale through her nose, scrunching the material of his suit shirt in her palm, not even thinking about how it would affect how the shirt looked after that. “Stiles…I’m…I’m…”

“What?” he drawls, his lips still sucking marks across the right side of her throat. “Your…your…?”

“I’m fucking soaking,” she growls, her hips swiveling minimally to try and find _some_ sort of relief. “And you better fucking do something about it.”

The hand below swiftly smacks against her behind, her back arching up as a moan escapes her throat before she could swallow it down. The eyes of their driver flicks to the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road, a lump forming in his throat.

“Why can’t I tease, yet you can?” Lydia’s breathing was getting labored now, pants blowing in and out.

She could _feel_ him smirk against the skin of her neck, his face moving into her line of sight just seconds later as he brings one hand back up to her face to push a piece of her now-messy red hair out of the way. “Oh, you can tease, peaches,” Stiles drones. “I just don’t feel it’d be very appropriate with company in the car, hm?”

“Oh, so now we’re gonna be a misogynistic ass, are we?” she clips, her fingers uncurling. On the inside, Stiles _beams_ knowing he’d pushed _just_ the right buttons to unleash what she kept hidden too often. “I don’t think so, Stilinski.”

Her palms push flat against his shoulders, shoving his body to align straight with the seat of the limo. He smirks once again, his eyes clouding over as she slinks down his body, resting her knees on the carpet of the vehicle. His tongue sneaks out to lick over his lips once again, his breathing deepening the moment her skilled fingers find the zipper of his slacks and tug it down. “Boyd,” he says curtly, his hands balling at his sides where they rested on the leather of the seats. “Would you…would you please roll up the…the…” her hands were in his boxers oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—

“The partition?” Boyd asks, directly keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him. 

“Yes! There’s the word,” Stiles chokes out as her hand wraps around his shaft, her fingers cold but feeling so _so_ good on his dick. The digits immediately pull and tug until his dick springs free out of its confinements, the divider to hide them from their driver slowly rolling up. Stiles watches as the back of Boyd’s head disappears inch by inch before he was finally obscured from view.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Stiles breathes out in one rush, his fingers reaching forward to slide into Lydia’s red hair, all the thank-yous he could think of going toward the heavens that she had worn it down tonight. “Lydia, you better fucking do something.”

Said girl gives a clever little grin as she dips her hand down back into his boxers to cup his balls, the other hand around his dick giving a little squeeze that had his hips rocketing up quickly. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to tease?” she asks trickily, her head tipping to the side to enunciate.

“You know that was just— _fuck_ —meant to get a rile out of you,” he gasps as she starts stroking up and down up and down up and down, his cock getting harder and harder by the second. He didn’t think he’d ever been so hard in his life, especially with her mouth so close yet _so fucking far_. “Did it work?”

“Of course it worked,” she says idly, her eyes trained on his dick as she jacks him off slowly, waiting for the perfect moment to work him up fully. “Doesn’t it always? You insist on having control yet swiftly hand it over to me when you feel like it, huh?”

Stiles swallows to bring moisture back to his dry tongue, leaning his head back against the seat as she digs her palm in a little harder with each tug. “But I always gain it back halfway through,” he reminds her, echoing this with a slight pull of her hair that was still in his hands so she would remember. “Don’t forget that, peaches.”

Lydia gives a sweet smile just as the beginning of his precome spurts over the head of his dick, the sight making the junction between her legs practically cream. Oh god, the things his dick did to her just from sight _alone_.

With that in mind she deftly moves forward and sucks his cock into her mouth, his hips ricocheting up immediately, a groan punching out from him somewhere beneath his rib cage. It almost hurt how powerful the sound had been, but he ignores the burn in his chest and instantly gets to work fucking into that hot, wet mouth of hers, grunts attempting to pass his pressed-tight lips.

“Shit, Lydia,” he pants, pushing her head down until the tip of his dick was nudging the back of her throat, holding her there as she gags around him for a second before adjusting to her normal place there, swallowing and breathing in through her nose like a good girl. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he praises, moving his thumb down her cheekbone toward her lips to smear her red lipstick further. “I fucking love you, babe.”

He eases up on his grip on the back of her head a few moments later so she could move once again, her breathing regaining so she could return to sucking him off. She pulls off moments later and runs her tongue up the underside of his dick, the vein there feeling thick and pulsing. That thought alone made her thighs squeeze together.

Her red lips press kisses all around his dick, stopping every few pecks to give a meaningful suck against the tender skin and leaving him breathless and like melted butter against the seat. As she wraps her hand back around his spit-slick, red-tainted cock, his hand finds the back of her neck. “Get the fuck up here,” he mutters before pulling up and ferociously finding her mouth. 

Teeth bite and tongues clash and lips tarnish their perfectly composed faces from before their encounter in the back of this limo as Stiles hands slip under her dress to find her thong. He slides it off and down her legs without difficulty and she steps out them before resting either shin against the seat to straddle his exposed length. Their lips stay heated against each other’s through the exchange until he feels her now-bare pussy touch the mess of his dick and a moan too erotic for anyone to hear leaves his throat in a growl and a hiss. “Fuck, Lydia, I need to be the fuck in you,” he admits against her mouth, sliding his hand down between them to press up against her smooth lips, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she gasps at the intrusion.

“Hurry the fuck up,” she also pushes out impatiently, swiveling her hips to try and rest atop his groin. He smacks her ass again, this time to remind her who was supposed to have the upper hand (which, let’s be perfectly honest, they both have always had the upper hand but she just liked to humor him), before pressing the head of his penis to her opening. 

With another heady breath from Stiles and one more anxious groan from Lydia, he angles his hips up to push right into her, both of their joined mouths releasing sighs of relief and pleasure and eagerness. 

They waste no time in heading toward the light at the end of the tunnel, his hand between their moving bodies taking up residence against her clit and finding no qualms against rubbing her to climax. “Oh fuck!” she shouts as he uses the little muscle to his advantage, fucking right up into her each time he circled back around to push right against her clitoris. It was a dizzying cycle that had her head thrown back with her arm extended out to push against the back window. “Fuck, fuck, please don’t stop.”

As the limo makes an immediate right turn, Stiles wraps his free arm around her back to keep her upright, also using it help guide her hip movements as she bounced up and down on top of him. “Almost?” he manages out between short exhales, knowing she was close by the way her inner thighs were twitching and her arm beside his head was shaking. She nods rather than wasting energy for words, her lips reaching to finally sate her mind by attacking the flesh of his neck. The sweat-slick skin slides across her lips like water through her fingers, but she bites hold to suck a firm red and purple spot beside his adam’s apple to leave her mark.

“Love to…stake your claim…don’t you?” Stiles heaves, his own climax impending as his eyes dilate. 

She just chuckles even through her moans of pleasure, pressing her lips to his in a tongue-less kiss, just keeping their mouths close, as she tips his hips forward _just_ the right amount in order to briefly touch that spot inside of her that left sparks sizzling across her brain. As the head of his dick grazes past it, she loses the rhythm her hips had created and sets off her orgasm, throwing her head back and choking on her moan as the firework spark sets off in the pit of her stomach, reaching the tips of her toes so they curl in the gold shoes she was sporting. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Stiles,” she huffs, her pale cheeks a beautiful rosy red, the same color as her smeared lipstick. 

Eyeing the appearance of her ruined preened look is what does it for Stiles, her freshly fucked mouth all he could stare at as he releases, pumping into her once, twice, before holding his hips flat against hers as he rasps out what she assumed was a jumbled “fuck yes, oh fuck yes, Lyds.”

Her head falls to his shoulder as they wind down from their impromptu fucking, his hips still flush against the inside of her thighs as their breathing returns to a semi-normal pace. His hand finds its way to her now-tangled hair, his fingers twirling in and out of the strands while his lips find hers in a lazy, slow, after-sex smooch. 

“That was filthy,” she fans across his dry mouth, her dainty hand sliding up his sweaty neck. Stiles kisses the pad of her thumb that rested near his lips before kissing hers once more. “Very filthy.”

“Not as filthy as you are,” he smiles cheekily as he pats her rear end for good measure. She snorts before peeling herself off of him, frowning at his practically ruined suit. She pays no attention to it as she looks toward the floor of the car just as they pull to a stop. “Stiles, where are my underwear?”

“Underwear?” he questions innocently, his hands busy at fixing his black tie. “What underwear?”

Her mouth flatlines as she lowers her brows and furrows her gaze. “Stiles. Where did you hide them?”

“I have done no such thing,” he shakes his head in denial calmly, adjusting his cuff links so his sleeves would look at least a little straight even while sporting their new wrinkles. “And hey, I think we’re finally here.” He takes her hand in his and brings it to his mouth, leaving a chaste kiss there. “Where’d you put your purse? We should probably fix that smudged lipstick of yours.”

He reaches around her to grab her gold clutch, rummaging around in there as she bends over to peek under the seats, frowning again as she finds no luck in discovering her panties under there. She moves back up and lets out a haughty huff, flicking her hair from her face as Stiles presents her her red stick of lip stain. “Here you are, peaches,” he smirks as she gives him a narrow-eyed glare, taking the make-up from him shortly and flipping a mirror down from overhead.

A knock is heard on the window to Stiles’ right seconds later, the short jabs making Stiles jump slightly in his seat. He rolls it down and smiles out at Boyd who was standing uncomfortably on the curb in front of the club they were supposed to be inside of right now, the driver giving a hesitant smile. “Uh, Mr. Stilinski? We’ve arrived at the Red Herring.”

Stiles nods. “Thanks, Boyd. We’ll need just another second, is that all right?” 

The tall man nods and moves back so Stiles can roll the window back up. He turns back to look over at his girlfriend, her hands just about finished re-primping. “Ready?” he smiles, his arm coming back around her waist as she snaps her clutch closed. He sadly sighs at her perfected lipstick even though it complimented her beautiful pouty lips, still loving when they were smeared and ruined from his doing. 

“Your dick was in me not five minutes ago and you’re asking me if I’m ready to go to a party that all my friends will be attending, all the while coercing me into going commando?” she deadpans.

He laughs with a wide mouth. “Oh, you keep me on my toes, Lydia.” He puckers his lips and gives her a meaningful kiss, pulling back to see her grinning back at him. “Now come on. While we were doing it I felt my phone vibrate with like, six messages. Scott is probably _pissed_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I am so not sorry


End file.
